


Halcyon Youth

by Lady_Spindle



Category: 91 Days (Anime)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, First Love, Friendship, Kinda?, M/M, a lot less people would have died, basically what would have happened if Nero and Angelo were friends from the start, just saying, they lived in the same town
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-09
Updated: 2018-09-09
Packaged: 2019-07-10 01:30:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,845
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15938975
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lady_Spindle/pseuds/Lady_Spindle
Summary: What if Nero and Angelo had met when they were kids? From the moment they meet in 1921, the start of their burgeoning friendship, to the inevitable clash of their fathers, their fates are intertwined.





	Halcyon Youth

_ First Meeting: Nero 10, Angelo 8 _

The dark haired boy in the corner seemed content with ignoring Nero.  He'd been standing awkwardly in the Lagusa family nursery for the better part of a half hour while his father had a "discussion" with Mr. Lagusa.  Meanwhile, Nero had to wait because he was "too young" for these things. Maybe, but at ten years old at least his father felt he needed to start being a part of the family business - whatever that meant.   

Mrs. Lagusa re-entered the nursery, carrying a pinch-faced infant in her arms.  She had a warm, radiating presence that made Nero want to draw closer, as he had with his own mother before she grew too sick to hold him, and he grew too old to be held. 

(Frate was lucky, he was still young enough for motherly affection, and he didn't have to worry about being the eldest. Nero wishes Frate realized this whenever he complained about not getting to do any grown-up things)

Instead Nero continued to study his shiny toed shoes, scuffed with dirt a bit from the walk from their family car to the Lagusa household. He feels out of place in the spotless house in his miniature suit.  He would have been more comfortable in a sweater, like the soft fluffy article the dark haired boy - still ignoring him - wore. 

“You're Nero, right dear?" Mrs. Lagusa asked.  She had taken a seat on one of the cushioned chairs of the nursery, rocking the now-slumbering pinch-faced baby.  Less pinched in the face now. Maybe a little cute. Maybe. 

"Yes ma'am," he mumbled.  He didn't like talking to grownups.

"Aren't you all dressed up smart," she smiled, warmly, reminding him again of sunshine.

"Thank you," he mutters, actually embarrassed. 

"You must be about Angelo's age, hm?" She glances over at the dark-haired boy who Nero struggled to see any resemblance to nice Mrs. Lagusa.

"Angelo, have you said 'hi' to Nero?" 

Slowly, “Angelo” swivels on heel and looks at Nero.  His eyes are gold, bored, like a cat Nero once chased into a dumpster with Vanno.

"Hi." He says no more and crouches down to drag a wooden car around the lines of a circular rug. 

Nero, perplexed, and annoyed, walks closer and crouches down across the rug from him. 

"Mind if I play with you?" He thinks he sounds diplomatic, other kids at school respond well to him.  His father says it's a good trait to have for the family business.

(From across the hall he thinks he might hear raised voices, the sound of something slamming onto a wooden desk)

Mrs. Lagusa excuses herself from the room, saying something about putting Luce (the baby, probably) upstairs for a nap. 

Nero looks at her face, now creased with worry.  It reminds him, too much, of his own mother's face, perpetually creased with pain. 

The moment she's gone Angelo ceases playing with the toy truck and affixes Nero with an accusatory glare.

"When are you going to leave?" He asks.

Nero gawks, "Um, when my dad is done talking to yours?"

Angelo makes a 'hmph' sound and stands. He climbs over the nursery gate effortlessly. He peeks over his shoulder and sends one more (contempt filled) glance at Nero, "I'm going outside, don't follow me."

RUDE, Nero thinks, and promptly follows him outside. 

The house is surrounded by woods, a good fifteen minute drive from the rest of town. He sees a flash of green where Angelo disappears into the forest. Nero hustles after him and catches up fairly easily.  He is older, after all. 

Angelo stops when he realizes Nero isn’t going to just disappear.  Looking resigned, he sits down a the base of a massive old tree. 

“Are you supposed to be outside?” Nero asks him, determined now to get some kind of reaction out of the younger boy. 

“No, but it doesn’t matter, Mom won’t notice because of Luce,” Angelo pulls his knees to his chest, frowning. 

The gears in Nero’s head take a few seconds to process the emotions on the boy’s face until recognition dawns.  Nero takes a seat beside Angelo who retracts away from him slightly.

“You’re upset because your mom is paying more attention to your little brother than you?” He says somewhat triumphantly, as if he’s solved the riddle. 

Angelo makes a grumpy sound into his crossed arms, “it’s like I don’t even exist anymore since Luce was born.  Dad’s always working, Mom’s always dealing with Luce crying all the time…”

“Hey, it’s happened to me too, I don’t really remember when Fio was born, but when Frate was born, it felt like I didn’t exist for the first couple months,” He and Vanno had found so many ways to get into trouble he deserved a prize.

Angelo is watching him now, head tilted sideways, cheek resting on his drawn up knees.

“It’s ok though, your mom still loves you, babies are just annoying I guess?  After Frate got older she started paying attention to Fio and me again,” Nero offered a small smile, “besides, you only have one little sibling, imagine having two.”

The boy’s eyes widen at the thought, “I’m glad there’s only one, I guess,” he seems a little less upset. 

“Luce will be more fun when he’s older too...like Frate was boring when all he did was cry and drool but now he can walk and say a few words so that better I guess,” Nero shrugs and stands up, trying to put on his most charming face, he extends a hand to Angelo, “why don’t we go back in the house? Don’t want your mom to worry.”

Angelo says nothing but accepts Nero’s hand. He leads the younger boy through the woods, keeping a hold to his hand until they reach the front door. Angelo’s hand is cold and clammy, but Nero doesn’t mind, he’s reluctant to let go. He is about to pull the door handle when it swings inward to reveal his father and Mr. Lagusa.  The resemblance of Angelo and Mr. Lagusa is instantly obvious: dark hair, gold eyes - he’d even started adopting his father’s stoic demeanor prematurely. 

“Angelo,” Mr. Lagusa asks quietly, his voice sounds rough (like he’d been shouting), “were you outside without permission?”

“No father, Nero wanted me to show him around the driveway,” Angelo lies smoothly, a natural.

“Yeah,” Nero agrees, before any self-preservation can kick in.  He feels the crushing weight of Mr. Lagusa and his father’s combined gazes as a physical force, “It’s a really cool house.”

Before his flimsy alibi can be seen through, his father brushes past Mr. Lagusa and takes his position beside Nero, hand on his shoulder. (an odd but caring gesture). 

“I hope you’ll consider what we spoke of,” he tells Mr. Lagusa.

“I wouldn't count on it, Vincent,” Mr. Lagusa’s voice is as cold as his gaze.

“Nero, my son, it’s time to leave,” Vincent spares the Lagusas one parting glance before leading Nero back to the car. 

“Bye Angelo,” he calls over his shoulder without thinking, “Maybe I’ll see you around?”

The boy has already glued himself to his father’s side, clinging to his pant leg.  He says nothing, but Nero could swear the corners of his mouth upturned into something like a smile.  

In the rearview window, he sees a tiny pale hand waving him farewell. 

* * *

 

_ The Circus: Nero 10, Angelo 8 _

Nero knows they’ll need money to get into the circus, the thought of having to steal money has already scared off Frate, the baby. But the housekeeper appeared before he could prize open his father’s desk; he and Vanno only barely escaped detection.  

Now they’re in a pickle, no money and late to mass.  Nero is about to call it quits, just accept the consequences of being late, when Angelo strolls around the corner in front of them. He’s out of breath, it looks like he ran to catch up.

“Oi what are you doing here pipsqueak?” Vanno asks, looking over to Nero for backup.

Nero ignores him, “did you follow us all the way here?”  He’s seen Angelo a few times over the past year since they first met at the Lagusa household.  The boy isn’t the same as hanging out with Vanno, but Nero undeniably enjoys his company. Even better, Angelo seems to finally be enjoying his. 

“You’re taking a long way to get to the circus,” Angelo sucks in a deep breath.

“Yeah, we needed money… but the housekeeper is here now and she almost caught us,” Nero admits, “Wait, how did you find us?”

“I overheard you talking on the way to mass, and I want to go to the circus too,” he plants his hands on his hips stubbornly, as if expecting rejection. 

“Well too bad we don’t have money,” Vanno pouted.

Something lights up in Angelo’s eyes, “you need money? I know how to get some.”

“How’s that?” Vanno is skeptical.

The corners of his mouth upturn, “trust me.”

“C’mon Nero, we’re not really gonna follow this brat to the circus, are we?”

Nero considers for a second, “We are, let’s go.”

Vanno pulls a face and Nero punches his shoulder, “Angelo is good, do you want to get into the circus or not?”

While Vanno mutters in agreement, Angelo already started purposefully up the road.  The ragtag band reaches the circus, alight with sounds and smells. 

Angelo turns to the pair and tells them “Wait here, I’ll get the money now.” He’s smirking.

“How’s he gonna do that?” Vanno whispers to Nero who shrugs. 

From across the way, they watch as Angelo approaches a nice looking middle-aged woman.  His whole demeanor has changed, shoulders slumped, face turned down. Nero can’t hear any words, but the lady seems to cave almost immediately, patting Angelo’s head sweetly.  The boy in question looks to be on the verge of tears, wiping his nose on his sleeve, gold eyes shining wide like twin medallions. Aghast, Nero watches as the woman hands Angelo a small stack of bills.  She coos one last thing at the boy before he sweeps away, her eyes follow briefly, full of sympathy. 

“What the hell,” Vanno mutters when Angelo rejoins them, flashing a wad of dollar bills.

Gone is the teary-eyed “lost” child act from a minute ago, replaced with a smug grin.

“Holy shit, how did you do that?” Nero counts the money, they have enough for entry and food.

Looking innocent, Angelo mimes “I j-just told her I go s-separated from my mommy and that I might need to take the train to get back h-home,” He grins wickedly. 

Nero punches Vanno in the shoulder again, “told you he was great”. Vanno concedes.

They proceed to enjoy the circus as only young hooligans can. 

Angelo eats fairy floss enough for three people and doesn’t appear fazed by the sickly sweetness of it.  Nero beats Vanno at a bottle toss game and wins a stupidly big teddy bear. He immediately gifts it to Angelo on the grounds that he’s “too old for that baby stuff”. Angelo parades the massive bear around like a trophy, burying his face in the light brown fluffy fur, grinning ear to ear.  (Nero never thought he’d be so jealous of a gosh dang stuffed bear…)

By the time the sun begins setting, they make their way home, knowing well they’ll all be in trouble. They drop off Angelo first, and Vanno pats him on the head saying “you’re not so bad, pipsqueak”.  Nero insists on walking Angelo to the front door. The boy squeezes his prize tight and mutters a thank you. Nero reciprocates and sprints off before he can process how cute Angelo hugging a teddy bear is because he should not - not - think things like that are cute and why was he thinking that what was even cute about his friend - he - he should be much more occupied with whatever punishment he had in store at home.  It was a sobering thought but he still felt warm all over. He blamed the Fairy Floss. 

* * *

 

_ After the Circus: Nero 12, Angelo 1 _ _ 0 _

After the circus, Nero makes an appoint to hang out with Angelo more.  Vanno gives him crap about it, but he doesn’t care, Angelo intrigues him.  Whereas with Vanno he’d do normal things like play ball, wrestle, and try to shave the neighbor’s cat (unsuccessfully). With Angelo, he’d hike along the stream by their house and point out weird shaped clouds, or lie in the grass while Angelo read to him.  They’d talk about their siblings (Fio’s starting to notice boys it’s gross, Luce started walking about a week ago). It was weird but nice, he never felt like Angelo was just a little kid tagging along with him, nor did Angelo feel he had to try and keep up with Nero.  They met each other in the middle, and Nero wouldn’t have it any other way. Sometimes Angelo would be with his other friend, Corteo, a skinny, bookish kid, not interesting. From what Angelo would tell him, Corteo’s mom often worked long hours so Corteo would come over to his house for lunch and then stay into the evening. On those days, Nero would make sure he and Vanno would have something planned (though more recently, Nero’s father would insist he listen in on some business meeting, he’d gotten a trench coat fitted a size or two too big for when he “grew”.  “Soon”, Vincent says, “I’ll teach you how to shoot”. Angelo asks Nero if he means with real guns, Nero thinks so and Angelo shakes his head, “why would you need that?”

Nero will understand in time, that’s what he’s told. 

But for now it’s warm summer afternoons spent lying side-by-side with Angelo by the river bank, sharing secrets in their hideout in the woods, the sound of Angelo’s golden voice as he re-reads the same storybook he’s smuggled from the nursery. 

When Nero is thirteen he meets Angelo at their hideout as usual but he’s furious.

“What’s wrong?” Angelo asks, he’s prizing open a can of pineapple, he loves that sweet syrupy garbage. 

Nero crosses his arms, “Fio claims she’s already kissed a boy and she’s only twelve.”

“Ok,” Angelo is unconcerned. 

He throws his arms into the air “It’s not ok! I haven’t even kissed a b- anyone!  I’m the oldest, I should do these things first!” He frowns magnificently. 

Angelo, stuffing an entire slice of pineapple in his left cheek, replies “so find a girl you want to kiss and show Fio up.”

“But I don’t  _ like _ any of the girls in this stupid town,” Nero whines, “and dad never takes me on his business trips to Chicago, Uncle Ganzo says the city is full of beautiful women!”

In the time it takes for Nero to gripe, Angelo stuff another slice of pineapple into his other cheek and proceeds to chew and swallow.  It’s so sweet it grabs the back of his jaw. A slow smile forms on his face. 

“I have an idea,” he stares at Nero, “what if you kissed me?”

Nero’s eyes get wider and his frown deepens, “I can’t do that, boys aren’t supposed to kiss.”

“Why not? Don’t you like me?” Angelo asks, eyes wide and innocent.

The older boy remembers that Angelo is too young probably to understand these things and explains, “boys can only kiss girls, that’s what the grownups do.  Have you ever seen two grownup boys kiss?” 

Angelo shakes his head slowly. 

“I do like you, Angelo, but not like...not like how your parents like each other, okay?” Nero has flushed red and he’s not sure why he’s having this conversation with the younger boy. 

Angelo looks down, shadows from his eyelashes make spider web patterns on his cheeks, “Mama said she loves papa unconditionally, how is that different from what I feel for you?”

Nero feels his chest squeeze, like for a moment his body decided to suffocate.  He looks down, away, anywhere but Angelo and mutters, “well I can’t tell Fio I kissed a boy.”

Angelo scoots closer to Nero, eyes gleaming with mischief, “she doesn’t have to know.”

Nero feels himself grin wide, “you’re right, she doesn’t” He feels lighter, and some part of his brain is still hung up on the “I love you unconditionally, Nero” and he wants to say he feels the same but the words are sticking to the inside of his mouth and he can’t quite will them free. 

He’s vaguely aware that Angelo is still watching him, eyes wide and gold, nearly glowing in the midday sun spattering through the treetops. 

“So...are you gonna kiss me or…” he grins wider, “are you a chicken?”

“I am NOT,” Nero protests and his voice picks this unfortunate moment to pop up an octave. 

Angelo falls back and cackles, shaking with mirth, “you sound so funny recently!”

“Stop it!” ugh now his voice is half an octave too low, “this is gonna happen to you in a couple years too!” Now it’s back to normal.

But Angelo is nowhere close to being finished, he’s wiping tears from his eyes, “when your voice jumps up, you  _ really _ sound like a chicken!”

That’s it. Nero is done taking the abuse.  He jumps on Angelo and has him pinned in two seconds because Angelo is nothing like Vanno and probably couldn’t win a fight against a paper bag (well maybe against Corteo…). 

Whatever. Before he can think better of it he leans down and smushes a kiss against Angelo’s wide grinning lips.  He miscalculates just about everything and their foreheads collide, noses press uncomfortably and they both lurch apart.  

“Ow!!...I don’t think that’s supposed to hurt!” Angelo whines, rubbing his forehead, his nose.

Nero’s eyes are smarting and he mutters and apology. 

Angelo stands and dusts off his trousers, seemingly recovered.“It’s ok, you can tell Fio you kissed someone now,”  He pauses for a moment, then leans down, swiftly pressing a kiss to the corner of Nero’s mouth. It’s soft and quick and sticky from the pineapple juice. Nero gapes at him for a solid minute before Angelo makes an excuse about needing to go home early to help his mom with Luce.  

When his silhouette disappears into the trees, Nero lays back in the grass.  His face is still burning, and it has nothing to do with headbutting Angelo a minute ago. 

He licks his lips.  Stupid pineapples.

* * *

 

_ First Job: Nero 14, Angelo 12 _

Nero is fourteen when his father finally tells him he gets to come on a job.  The term “mafia” is still fully forming its implications inside his young mind, but he’s convincing himself, no matter how unsavory the business, it’s to protect his  _ family _ , and that’s all that really matters in the end.  The swell of acceptance when Vincent hands him a revolver is enough to momentarily wash away his nerves, his desire to prove himself, his uncertainty of what this “job” may entail. 

He doesn’t start to question it until his father mentions that the job was in town.  Nero was expecting Chicago. There aren’t many mafia in Lawless, just the Vanettis...and the don, Testa Lagusa. 

The doubt nags at him until he can’t stand holding it in. He talks to Vanno, also coming along.  Like Nero, Vanno is anxious to prove himself, but he doesn’t seem to think anything is amiss. 

“Don’t you think it’s weird that we’re staying in town?” Nero asks, he’s stolen a flask of liquor from his father’s stash.  Vanno hates the stuff, so Nero has dutifully begun downing the moonshine. It’s so watered down and vile, he doubts it will be missed. 

“Why would it be weird?” Vanno replies.

“...I don’t know,” he admits and doesn’t press further. 

The night before the job, he sends a message to Angelo to meet him at the hideout.  He’s seen Angelo less and less since the end of the summer. His father and Testa haven’t been friendly for awhile, but the tension has taken on another aura altogether. 

Though a fresh cover of snow blanketed the forest, causing the deep blue shadows cast by bare trees to seem more ominous than usual, Nero trudged to the hideout and crouched low at the base of the tree.  He tried not to look too deeply into the shadows and ignored the way the moon bleached the bare tree branches white like bones. 

Soon, the soothing crunch of Angelo’s footsteps grow near.  He has barely changed in the past few months, round face still soft, cheeks bitten red by the cold, eyes glinting brilliantly in the moonlight.  Nero by contrast has shot up a few inches, he’s started growing facial hair. At times he felt alienated from the person he used to be, soft and carefree, like Angelo.  Before the term “mafia” had any meaning in his mind. 

“Nero?  What is it?” He sounds concerned.  Angelo draws close and crouches beside Nero, shoulder to shoulder. 

The warmth from Angelo seeps through his trenchcoat and grounds him, “I needed to see you,” he admits, “It’s just...I’m going on a job tomorrow night.”

He can’t quite bring himself to look at Angelo, afraid of what his searching eyes might find. 

“A job?” Angelo echos, voice floating in the crisp air. 

The term “mafia” has no place in his mind.

“Like...a family business job,” Nero shifts and hears a clink of metal, the revolver he now keeps belted at his side, a weight that’s grown too familiar. “It’s going to happen in Lawless, I don’t... I don’t know why but I’m scared something bad will happen.”

Angelo leans against him, “you’ll be safe, your family will protect you, plus you have a gun now.”

Nero turns suddenly and seizes him by the shoulders, “I need you to promise me something, promise me you’ll take Luce and go to Corteo’s house tomorrow night, ok?”

Angelo is trembling slightly now, “Nero...what are you saying? You’re scaring me.” His eyes are too wide, twin disks of gold washed pale and dead by the moonlight. 

He looks like a child now, Nero had forgotten somewhere along the way. When Nero was twelve, he was concerned about winning wrestling matches and when he’d get to see Angelo next, not this.  Not this. 

He draws in a shaking breath, “no one will tell me what the job is and...I just have a bad feeling...I need you out of Lawless ok?  Then you’ll be safe for sure.” He shakes Angelo a little too hard, “promise me!”

“Ok! Ok!,” he looks like he might cry, “Corteo is coming over tomorrow for lunch, I’ll...I’ll make sure Luce and I stay with him late.” 

Nero relaxes his grip on Angelo’s shoulders.  He’s staring at Nero’s waist now, he can see the revolver through the unbuttoned front of his trenchcoat. It’s weight feels wrong…

Angelo stands suddenly, eyes still wide, wild even. 

“Make sure you and your brother are gone tomorrow night,” Nero hears himself repeating.

The younger boy is nodding, backing up, backing into the shadows of the woods until they swallow him.  Then he runs. 

* * *

 

“Mama, Luce and I are going to walk Corteo home,” Angelo calls out.  Corteo gives him a strange look; it would be faster with just him riding his bike. 

Elena looks at the trio, already decked out in winter gear.  “Alright, as long as the two of you stay together.”

“We will,” Angelo flashes his most sincere smile.  Luce is four now, and eager to explore. In the dead of night, in the winter… Before she can change her mind, the trio leaves. 

Angelo is sporting a rather heavy looking backpack, and Corteo is still eyeing him strangely.  At least Luce is unaffected. 

“Why are you walking me home?” Coreteo whispered, “I appreciate the gesture but…” looks around at the snowy landscape in confusion. 

“It was going to be a surprise, but I was thinking about having a sleep over at your house,” Angelo gestures to his bag. 

“Does your mother know?” Corteo looks scandalized.

“It’s ok, she’ll forgive me,” an icy pit has formed in Angelo’s stomach.

“Whaa? A sleepover?” Luce pipes up, “did you bring my stuffed bunny?”

Stupidly, Angelo replies, “I didn’t”

Luce stops in his tracks, “We have to go back, I can’t sleep without my bunny.” His hands ball into fists, on the verge of a tantrum.

“Nononono, it’s ok Luce, I’ll run back and grab it, just stay with Corteo, ok?” Angelo pats his brother’s shoulder, placating him. He recalls the serious look in Nero’s clear blue eyes, he never took anything seriously.  His hands had gripped Angelo’s shoulders to the point of pain, the fear, the fear had been palpable. Angelo had never known Nero to be afraid of anything. 

Corteo’s eyes are narrowed but he obeys when Angelo begs him “just make sure he gets to your apartment safely”.  He balances the overnight bag on Corteo’s bike and sprints back home. 

He reaches his house and crawls in the back window, there are no cars in the driveway.  He hears his father come home and wants to go and greet him, be reassured by his and his mother’s calming presence.  But within moments he can hear the crunch of car tires over untouched snow and the slam of car doors. Angelo hides in the wardrobe, and tries not to breathe. 

* * *

 

Nero is shoulder to shoulder with Vanno in the back seat of his father’s car.  A pit of dread has been steadily building in his stomach since early afternoon, but drops into something so, so much worse when the car takes a practiced series of turns to the Lagusa household. 

His father, his uncle, and Vanno exit the car, faces concealed.  Nero follows them into the house. He remembers these walls, the path to the nursery, Mrs. Lagusa’s sunshine face.  

It’s not shining now.  She looks at them all with coolly detached….terror...it’s definitely terror.  Testa calls out to see if his children are home and Nero feels himself release the breath he’d been holding when the call yields no response. He knows exactly where this meeting is headed now, it’s not meant to intimidate the don, it’s a mutiny, and Nero wonders if he should have seen it coming from years ago, the tension in the muted conversations between his and Angelo’s fathers, the gradual drawing away from the Lagusa family. 

 

“Check the house,” is his order once the gunshots stop ringing.  He marches around the house he once considered a second home, kicking down doors, revolver in hand, safety off. 

 

He yanks open the wardrobe in the back room, praying it will be empty.  It is. He checks the mudroom next and finds, with a twinge, a birthday present, wrapped and ready to be given. He’s interrupted from these thoughts by the door creeping open.  The revolver is up before he can think otherwise but he stalls when the achingly familiar silhouette of Angelo appears in the dim light. He sees Nero and freezes before clumsily turning to run.

“Angelo!” he hisses, “it’s me, Nero,” he pulls down his face mask so he can see. 

Instantly, Angelo halts his escape and runs to Nero.  

“Where’s Luce?” Nero asks, looking around wildly.

“W-ith Corteo, at h-his apartment,” Angelo looks up at Nero, tear streaks on his cheeks, “my parents…” he buries his face in Nero’s chest, thin frame trembling with each sob. 

“I know, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know,” Nero squeezes him tightly, “I couldn’t do anything.”

Angelo clings to him like he’s the last thing tethering the boy to earth,but Ganzo’s distant voice rocks Nero back to the present. 

“Angelo, you need to run, they’re looking for anyone else in the house,” Nero strokes the top of Angelo’s head. 

He looks up at Nero, eyes rimmed red and filling with fresh tears, and nods. 

“Run out the back door, stick to the path, and don’t stop until you’ve reached Corteo’s place, ok? You and Luce will be safe there if you lay low” Angelo nods, “I’m…” Nero swallows hard, “I”m going to have to shoot at you.”

Angelo’s eyes widen. 

“Don’t worry,” Nero lets out a shaky laugh, “I’m going to miss by a lot.”  He lets his free hand brush against Angelo’s cheek, “I could never hurt you.”

“I know,” his voice croaks a little, “I trust you.”  Angelo rises up on his toes, presses a kiss to Nero’s lips, and sprints out the back door before Nero can fully process.  

He chases Angelo out the door shouting that he’s got this one.  He takes aim, thinking how easy it would be to put a bullet into the soft curve of Angelo’s back…

The thought sickens him beyond words, his arm jerks right and he fires wide. Angelo seems to stutter his gait upon hearing the gunshot, but he recovers and vanishes again into the woods. 

**Author's Note:**

> In my head there's a huge convoluted novel length fic to continue this one shot but I'm going to need to be happy with just this.


End file.
